


A Queen and Her King

by LiterateGamer



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterateGamer/pseuds/LiterateGamer
Summary: Makoto and Akira reminisce about everything that's happened to them so far before their wedding.A commission by an anonymous little birdie.





	A Queen and Her King

White.

Flowing, pure, and beautiful. That's the first thing that possessed Makoto's mind whenever she saw this dress. A cascade of white that enveloped her torso in striking fashion and flourished into a wide gown of flowing snow that stretched down to her feet. Cuffs at her shoulders and frills that were adorned in light smatters of pink, accentuating her with a look that to many could be described as the innocence of love.

An innocence that shone in stark contrast to the crimson in her eyes and the determination in her gaze. A poetic mirror, she mused, to the way that she herself delved into love, compared to everything else. 

For a moment, she let herself wonder. Let her mind drift off into the corners of itself to ponder a single question.

Had he not come along, would she have ever been able to find love?

The door opened abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts. A quick look would reveal four figures, dressed in red and brimming with energy.

Ann looked rather stunning, the model proving once more that she looked good in anything she wore. Her hair flowed down her shoulders freely, and overall she had become quite the woman.

Futaba had grown quite a bit since she'd first met her so long ago, and right now she looked so wonderful that Makoto's heart swelled with a sense of pride. Her hair was tied up in a bun, her glasses marked her emerald eyes, and her -admittedly still rather petite- body was hugged wonderfully by the red dress she wore. 

Haru Okumura grew up into quite the kind woman, her gaze soft as ever, yet now filled with a fierce determination. Her hair was just as fluffy as ever, a small ribbon at the top that framed her face quite perfectly.

And finally... Takao Eiko. A girl who'd matured a whole deal since Makoto first met her, one of her closest and only friends. She was still as gal-ish as ever, with an array of make-up on her face and several accesories on her wrists. But something about her hazel eyes and her bright smile betrayed the notion that she was just another woman. She'd become quite the office woman, had studied hard and gotten through the trials of university. All in all, Eiko had surprised Makoto. She'd shown her a deeper side, beyond the superficial wants of youth.

For that, she was grateful.

The four were brimming with emotion, and they all swarmed the bride, who was still getting ready for her moment. For her big day. Her wedding.

Truth be told, for the longest time Makoto could have never seen herself in such garbs. But now? Now, it seemed like reality was naught but a dream, a stipulation that both excited and terrified the young woman. But she WAS here, this WAS reality, and these girls, her best friends in this whole wide world, were there for her.

Her eyes were beginning to feel wet, but she willed the tears away, even as all four of them hugged her oh so tight.

Ann was first to speak, letting her sweet voice fall upon Makoto's ears. "You ready for your big day, Mako-chan?" "I-I don't know... I mean, I am, but at the same time I'm so nervous and--" Makoto began blubbering on, suddenly interrupted by Eiko, who placed her dainty hands on the woman's mouth. Makoto noted that her nails were pink.

"Oh, shuddup. You'll do fine! This is the biggest day in your life, and like, your man is such a catch. Like seriously, you make me proud sister."

"The gal's right, Makoto! You're at the biggest checkpoint of your entire life, so you better make sure to not waste it." Futaba was giddy, barely covering her excitement as she hopped back and forth, pacing around the room. Haru placed a hand on the auburn haired girl's forehead, smiling amicably at Makoto before letting her soft voice take the room.

"You can do it, Makoto-chan. We all believe in you." Makoto's smile was beaming at her friends' words, and as they all left the room, she felt her nerves diminish.

A knock at the door. She glanced at the clock. That's odd, she could've sworn that the ones who would do her make-up and finish helping her dress still had a couple of minutes left to arrive. 

And she was right. For she wasn't greeted with the professional attire of a couple of men and women. No, she was greeted by black and red. By a devilish smirk and a cocky wink. By her lover, boyfriend... and soon-to-be husband.

Akira Kurusu had changed quite a bit over the years. He had grown from a rather lean and softly athletic boy into a man. His muscles were now well defined, his gaze was sharp, and his jawline sported a bit of stubble on some days, sometimes even going as far as to grow a beard. He'd also grown taller, now towering just slightly over her, something that he used in conjunction with his strength to pick her up and carry her whenever he could. Not that she minded, his embrace was all she needed most days, after coming back from University tired and stressed over her future.

But now? Now his presence sparked something other than flames in her. Something that she had him know immediately with a very stern look.

"You're not supposed to be here, Akira."

He returned the gesture with a smile that made her gaze melt into pure adoration.

"I'm always were I shouldn't. I wanted to see my love, tradition be damned." 

She smiled. And how could she not, when he said those words?

"Well, make it quick, people will come here soon."

He glanced at a clock nearby, and then back at her, coming in close. It wasn't a second later that the two were locked in an embrace, lips quickly finding one another, a short kiss that felt so charged with emotion, so heated on the corners of her pouted mouth. She pushed him back, a playful and hesitant shove.

He kept that smile on his face, infecting her with similar emotion. She would pull back into him, cupping his face with her hand and slinging her other to the back of his hair.

"Do you remember when we met?" He asked, as he stared into her eyes. She responded without a thought.

"You've never let me forget about it. I was told to start gathering information on you by Kobayakawa, and me, being the naive girl that I was, thought that a big book would be enough to hide myself from you through Shibuya." He closed the distance as she spoke, their noses touching.

"I found it adorable. The way you mumbled, surprised your master plan failed."

She smiled, giving him a tiny peck on the lips. "Well, it _was_ foolproof. Which is why it didn't work on you, the great Leader of the Phantom Thieves."

He winked, and the two stood in silence for a couple of seconds, before Makoto relented, burying her head on the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him.

"You still smell like coffee and spice."

He wrapped his arms around her, letting his fingers draw circles on the naked form of her upper back.

"Ryuji tried his best to mask it, then gave up."

"I kinda like it, you know."

He chuckled, "Good, otherwise you'd get sick of me quickly."

"I doubt I ever will."

A hum from his lips, as he took in the roses of her perfume. "Remember our first dates?"

"You mean when we were staking out Eiko's host boyfriend?"

"The very same."

She closed her eyes, and memories came flooding back in.

\--

Their first date had been anything but romantic. A stake-out in a diner in Shibuya, with Makoto worriedly going over the plans of the night. She paid mind to a couple of things, a couple of details that stuck in her mind. The way the lighting of the diner coated everything in a warm, almost summer-like glow. The way the AC blasted above their booth, the many conversations littered around the entire place. But most of all, she remembered the way he put his hand on her arm to calm her nerves, the way his friendly smile and attitude made her feel at ease. 

Makoto Niijima had always been the perfect girl. The spotless student council rep, a girl who forced herself to not only stand out, but ascend past any competition. Someone who pushed herself through grueling study routines, who did her best to elevate herself beyond what she knew she could be. But inside, she'd always been quite the mess. Someone who could barely comprehend the inner workings of a normal social life, who grew old-fashioned and stayed old-fashioned. That's who she was. And that's who she had resigned herself to be.

Which is why that date was such an important memory to her. Not only because of what happened in it, as the excitement of it was all purely in her mind, rather it was because of who she was with at that moment. Akira had accepted her. And within a couple of days of knowing him, he'd quickly become fascinating in her eyes. He was someone who'd encouraged her to break the molds of society, and now, he was encouraging to break the molds of her own preconceived notions about herself.

Looking back on it now, perhaps that's why she fell in love with him. Because even though the excuse to spy on Eiko that constituted as their first 'date' was something relatively mundane to the work that they pushed themselves through in the Metaverse, it was because he was there that it became far more than ordinary.

And for Akira? Well, for Akira it had been the day where he realized he could see something truly special in Makoto.

Not just her analytical capabilities, or the way she thought things through a situation, or the way she could keep her head cool even in times of stress. He already knew all of that. No, what he saw, was the true side of Makoto. The way she floundered about in situations beyond her control, the way she tried her best despite the stress of the unknown. The way she looked whenever he caught her off guard... It was wonderful to him. A new facet that he could've never guess she had. But beyond that, it was the fact that she tried so hard, pushed herself so far for the sake of others. 

Akira himself had always taken a liking to that. He was a natural-born rebel and leader, after all. Someone who'd sooner die than see his comrades suffer, and who'd do anything in his power to help people he could. 

Something that, at times, made him pay dearly.

Their first date may have been a folly, a farce set up to figure out a secret. But the feelings found within it were real indeed. 

\--

The two were sitting at a scarlet couch, in one of the corners of the bride's changing room. Makoto was leaning up against Akira, and he was checking one of the clocks on the wall. Only five minutes had passed since he'd arrived. He reckoned he'd have a good twenty or so more.

The two had briefly spoken about their first date, reminiscing about the feelings that had come out at that moment.

 

"I love you." Makoto broke the spell, closing her eyes and listening to his heart. Slow and steady.

"I love you too."

"You know, that period of our lives was so chaotic."

"And you weren't even the one that got interrogated." He chuckled through his words, only for her to idly smack his chest.

"I was the one that was worried sick her boyfriend was dead. I was so surprised when I heard the news, I still remember just dropping everything and..." She trailed off, voice cracking ever so slightly. He leaned forward, cupped her chin in his hand, raised her to meet his gaze, and spoke. His voice was quiet, a soft melody that eased her worries. 

"I would've never given up. Not for a moment. Not while I had you."

She bit her lip. Hard. Eyes staring into intense steel. She snaked her hands up his arms, clung to his neck, squeezed him into an embrace. The words were hard to spit out, a knot in her throat that she resolved by kissing him again.

After they parted, she spoke.

"You never told me about what happened."

He leaned back into the couch, letting her return to her resting spot on his shoulder. He cleared his throat, and then spoke.

"Well, I suppose it's about time I do."

\--

The interrogation room. A bleak scene for Akira.

He was grabbed, right outside Sae's Casino, ambushed by an army comprised by the Japanese Task Force, as well as the local Tokyo police. He remembered his attempt at a getaway, trying to clamber up through an apartment's fire escape only to receive a hit in the head with the back of a rifle, sending him falling down, where police swarmed him. He remembered the boot on his face, the face of his interrogator, a smug smirk on his face as he revealed the existence of a traitor.

He had to remind himself not to smile back.

The next couple of hours are still a haze, even to this day. He remembers the cold at his wrists, the way they cuffed him and threw him into a maximum security section of the Tokyo PD, how they threw him unto a chair. He remembered the drugs, injections of truth serum and adrenaline to keep him keen and awake during the beatings. Bruises at his chest, a slam against the table, the dull ache a reminder that he was still breathing.

They finally managed to knock him out, tied up against a chair. He never spoke, not once. A fact that he was proud of to this day.

When he'd come to, he'd done so under a pail of ice-water, splashing against his face. Swift coughs, a feeling that he was drowning, and he was grabbed by the hair. He still remembered how much it stung. How the words of the man slurred in his mind.

How he spit the blood in his mouth on the bastard's face.

It was worth the following pain. That satisfaction rode him through even as he was driven against the ground. Forced to sign a name unto a plea, his thigh painfully stepped on after he refused.

5 minutes. 15 minutes. 5 hours? Who could've possibly told, in that dull, dark room. He was eventually told to sit at the table, and his hands were untied. He waited, for who knows how long, head spinning, mind racing.

And then he began to realize he'd forgotten it all. Or at least, most of it. That is, until Sae came.

2 hours. A conversation that was 2 hours of constant back and forth, of playing a silent game that neither refused to give up on. But in the end, he won. He managed to convince the woman who was so stubborn that even her own blood could not sway her, and it was only thanks to that that he survived. 

He would later be confided in by Lavenza, told of the fate of his double. Shot through the head, dissipating into nothing.

The perfect crime. The perfect plan.

And Makoto? Well, for Makoto it was a rush. They barely managed to escape from the Palace, using their great Leader as a decoy, and the worry that hung over their heads was a constant reminder of what had occurred. Truth be told, she never doubted him. Not once believed his word to be a lie. He was alive, he had to be. There was no way all their careful planning would end like this.

When she heard the news, her heart sank. The powerful Leader of The Phantom Thieves, dead by his own hand.

She faltered, she felt her whole body lose power... But then she smiled.

For she knew they'd won.

She made her way to Leblanc the second she'd heard the news. She spent a day with him, alone, as he recovered. He was badly beat up, wounds and bruises multiplied across his entire body. In the words of the Doctor Takemi: "It's a miracle he suffered no permanent damage."

To say she was distraught would be a massive understatement. 

But in the end, he made it through. They all did. 

But that wasn't the first, nor last of their troubles.

\--

A beep rang from Akira's hands, making the two halt their conversation. A quick click of his watch, and he turned back towards her. 

"Time's up."

She smiled, gave him a soft peck on the lips, and then pushed him off the couch, standing up herself. 

"I love you."

He looked back as he opened the door, that devilish smirk on his lips. 

"I love you too."

The door closed shut. And Makoto settled back in front of the mirror. She looked at herself, admired the white that surrounded her, the blue earrings that Ann had given her -"Counts as two, but count it as one!", she'd said.- and the simple red necklace that Sae had lent to her, a belated gift from their mother. She was so thankful for all of it, and with this in mind, she resorted to waiting for her entourage to arrive once more.

They'd do so not a minute later, a triplet of busy men and women who quickly swarmed her, followed by her maids of honored, who all entered with excited expressions. Idle chatter was had, but throughout it all, Makoto would close her eyes and think. And the more she thought, the more her mind brought up all these memories of yore. Perhaps as a reminder of what she had been through to end up here, what they had gone through together. Perhaps to encourage her to keep going forward. 

She remembered harsh times. Times in which Akira was imprisoned. A time where she felt so alone.

\--

Makoto felt truly betrayed, that Christmas Eve. She could tell that something was wrong the entire time they were together, roaming through the streets of Shibuya. They'd had a wonderful date, had been together since the noon till' it was dark, roaming across snow covered streets, arm in arm. But through it all, she could tell something was wrong.

His eyes betrayed it. A cold chill that ran down her spine in those pools of silver. It was something she'd never seen in him. Something that he'd kept hidden, now out in the open, and it terrified her. 

Akira and her were walking through to the Shibuya station, passing through the square, so chock-full of couples. It didn't surprise her, but it did feel nice to have someone accompanying her for once, to not have to hide the fact that they were together. To confidently hold his arm as they strode through the streets of Tokyo.

As they marched on through the station, Makoto opened up conversation. 

"It's nice being outside like this." The tracks rumbled, dozens upon dozens of people around them, in line for the train. She was pushed up against him, yet she didn't mind the slight discomfort. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, telling her to enjoy these moments with him. So she did.

"Lotta people tonight." He looked towards her, a smile that felt genuine, easing that burden in her heart. She let herself revel in that smile, spoke back to him in a soft tone, as if to keep a secret from the crowd that was currently pushing them into the train.

"I love you."

Akira wrapped his arm around her waist, held her in close and held up to the ceiling with his other. He let his nose rest against hair, and amongst the constant buzz of civilization, she heard him speak.

"And I you, my Queen."

He always managed to find a way to make her remember why she loved him. Why they were together, this blessed night. Why beyond the ruthless battle that they had waged against the powers of fate... they'd chosen to spend this moment together.

No rest would've been quite as great, as the one they could share alongside each other. 

 

Keys rattled at the brass lock, a quick shuffling when they were inserted on the lock, a strong push to the old wooden door. A flurry of snow and cold winds blasting at the entrance, a couple of seconds before the door was shut once more.

An icy tint of blue passed through the cafe, dimly lit by shadows of moonlight, by shadows of velvet and cerulean. It felt odd, seeing the cafe like this, so different from the usual glows of homely orange that normally bathed the environment. Makoto brushed the left-over snow from her jacket, quickly placing her hands together as Akira moved over behind the bar into the kitchen, searching for some fuel. She shivered, body shaking uncontrollably for a few moments before getting her bearings back into place. A quick look over towards him, and she could see a smile, a tub of gas at his hand, with his unused thumb pointing to the back.

"Heater's upstairs. Don't want Your Highness to catch a cold, you know."

She walked over to him, taking his hand into hers; "Then I guess my Jester better hurry."

 

She'd given him her present. A wristwatch, bought with hard-earned money, a small token for him, filled with emotion and care. He granted her a figurine, an extremely detailed bike that she had once seen on her trip through Akihabara with the red-headed Sakurai. A passing comment of personal desire, and he'd remembered it.

She felt like she was going to lose him soon. Like these moments that she was enjoying in his room, with nothing but the glow of the heater and the warmth of his body, were their last. Not forever, perhaps, but at least for a while.

And so she clutched on to him. Allowed him to take a garner into the fear in her heart. Opened herself up to him, even if he did not do the same.

Soft words spoken over a cracking voice. A tender, soulful kiss that told her all she needed to go.

"Akira... You should talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I can see it in your eyes. Please." She was desperate. Genuinely afraid, something that shook her to her very core, an emotion that she had not experienced truly in months. Even Yaldabaoth's looming shadow was not enough to instill this kind of fear. The kind of fear that only his worry could bring, a character break that, ironically, broke her own.

He would not answer. He would look to the side, avoid her gaze, press his fingers unto hers.

She understood. And she felt conflicted, a raging hurricane of emotions that tore through her heart, through her mind. But beyond it all, she knew that it had to be done.

That night, Makoto Niijima would come back home alone. And the following morning, she would find out that that loneliness would have to last.

\--

The bells were ringing. A hall, simply decorated with laurels of white and pink, crimson rose petals adorning the walkway through the modestly dressed altar. A civil union, for the two had never been particularly religious, even before Yaldabaoth. Everyone they'd ever cared for was there, from their comrades to people they'd met across the years.

It was quite the sight for Makoto, as she walked through it all, as everyone stood and applauded for her, the merry faces of all her friends. Her bridesmaids behind her, her sister at her side of the alter, her loved ones at the many seats that lined the hall. The veil in front of her eyes, the bouquet that she grasped oh so tightly in her hands. All of it felt like a dream. A dream that she still feared was untrue, an illusion caused by the final moments of her fading existence. A ploy by some god, some otherworldly being. 

The man smiling at her from the altar, proud and tall, was her anchor. Her reminder.

He'd proposed to her on Christmas Eve. 5 years of dating, 4 years living together in the same little house. He'd opened up a shop with Haru, had worked his hide off for a year to quickly become more than just a blip in the market. She'd tried to be with him as much as he could, and no matter what he'd supported her each and every night she came back from her long hours of studying at campus. And one day, as they had their Christmas Eve celebration at home, the lights shut down, and he propped up on one knee, and he made her heart soar. 

She still remembers how she latched unto him, how she let the usual wit and banter that they'd bounce off each other aside, taking him in her arms and giving him a kiss fueled with her agreement. 

And now, a couple of months later, as Spring shows its face and the cold Winter nights are left behind, she's looking into his eyes once again. And the hall's constant excitement stops, a moment halted forever before the civil representative speaks, as the two stand in front of each other, smiling.

She feels like a teenager again. A young, innocent girl, looking into the eyes of the man she will forever love for the first time. Comprehending what it means to have someone like you, to be a part of a greater whole.

The vows were spoken. Western traditions that Akira had felt appropriate for the two. Perhaps another bit of rebellion from his heart, a desire that he wanted to see things through in a way normally unheard of from Japanese society. He knew she had felt the same way.

Besides, they both felt as if though the traditional privacy of Japan's weddings was far too insulting to their friends. They were all family, and they'd been through thick and thin together. Having a private wedding would defeat that purpose. Which is exactly why every single one of their close friends was at this very ceremony.

Akira was looking into her eyes. That timeless sensation that he'd never get tired of. Words that came out of his lips, paradoxically unheard by the two of them. It wasn't necessary. They already knew the promises, had already repeated them so many times in their head. It wasn't necessary. 

They're looking at each other. And the veil is pulled up, and her face is beaming so brightly. He slips the ring on her finger. She slips the ring on his. And as they are asked that fateful question, and the room falls silent, the two realize that they're falling in love all over again. 

"Do you, Akira Kurusu, vow to unconditionally love this woman, under the eyes of the state and your closest relationships, till' death do you part?"

He gave her his smirk. That Joker smirk that only a few ever got to see.

"I do."

Her heart was fluttering. Racing. Emotion upon emotion upon emotion.

"And do you, Makoto Niijima, solemnly and truthfully swear and vow to love this man, under eyes of state and family, in sickness and health, till' death do you part?"

Her lips upturned into a smile. A genuine, beaming smile, betrayed by that glimmer in her crimson eyes.

"I do."

"You may kiss the bride."

 

A quick embrace. A loving kiss, that swept her from the ground, that made the two's entire universe collapse and rebuild.

The end of a life. The beginning of another. No more I, no more me. Only us.

 

Only us.

 


End file.
